


Yarbarah

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blood Drinking, Codependency, Dark Fantasy, Friendship, M/M, Magic, Protectiveness, Self-Harm, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maine needs blood to survive, and Wash, selfishly, needs Maine around. Fusion with the Black Jewels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yarbarah

“Here, drink this.”

Wash pushes the carafe into Maine’s hands, forcing the Eyrien’s fingers closed around it. 

Maine shifts, glares at him and then glances down at the bottle. There’s a pale cast to Maine’s skin that Wash isn’t used to, and his wings are curled around his bare shoulders protectively. They seem more fragile than they had when Maine was alive. 

“What is it?” Maine asks, but he pulls off the cap and sniffs at it. Something in him sharpens when he does.

Wash sits back on his heels, watching as Maine takes the first swig of the crimson liquid. 

“Yarbarah?” Maine asks, and there’s a surprised, wary look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Wash replies, ducking his head in a nod. 

“Where?”

Wash shrugs. “Does it matter? You need it. I got it.” Doesn’t say who he had to kill to get hold of it. Blood wine doesn’t come cheap or easy. It doesn’t matter. This territory is corrupt anyway. They all are these days. Sadistic Queens and power-hungry males. Darkness save him, he misses Carolina. Their Queen had been one of the good ones, even if she’d never been given the chance to rule properly.

Maine drinks slowly, looks like he’s savouring it. It brings colour back to his skin. Wash wonders if he would hear a heartbeat if he put his head against the other male’s chest. He’s never met anyone who was Demon Dead before. Even enemies, they’d always burnt them out before they could make the transition.

He drinks until the wine is gone and then stands, moving like he’s shaking away stiffness from his limbs. He spreads his wings, huge and black and Wash remembers what a sight he is on the battlefield. An Eyrien warrior capable of taking down anything thrown his way. 

Well, almost anything.

Wash jerks his head towards the doorway of the hovel they’re staying in. “It’s night. You feel up to travelling a while?” They’ll find somewhere else to stay before dawn. He hopes they will

Maine nods, and Wash turns to start clearing the camp, calling on his jewels to vanish their packs and douse the campfire. Before he can, Maine grabs his arm, and Wash has to stifle a cry of pain when he fingers close around the wound on his wrist. Maine huffs and peels back Wash’s sleeve to reveal the hastily bandaged cut along his wrist. Maine trails his fingers along it lightly. 

“This?”

Wash looks away, guilt flushing his skin. “It wasn’t enough,” he admits. “The wine. It wasn’t enough and I-” He needs Maine around. Maine needs blood, and Wash, selfishly, needs Maine around. 

Maine doesn’t say anything, but Wash can feel the Eyrien’s gaze on him until finally he releases Wash’s arm. A heavy hand comes to rest on his head, ruffling his hair. “Idiot.”

Maine picks up his war blade, swings it over his shoulder, and sets off at a pace that Wash has to jog to keep up with.


End file.
